


Morning Glory

by Catspaw



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catspaw/pseuds/Catspaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wakes up to a little surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Glory

As was his habit, a habit he prided himself on, Jack woke up instantly, like a cat, no time needed to orientate himself, and glanced over at the alarm clock: oh-five-thirty, same as always. Except, for a change, he had a feeling that this was going to be an exceptionally good day. He mentally ticked off the reasons for his feeling. Low sunlight was slanting across the room through the nets on the windows, growing steadily, promising that the weather was going to be pretty damned fine. It was Saturday and all was so far quiet on the Western Front. He and his team were on downtime until Monday. He'd just woken up after having an extraordinarily pleasant dream, of which he couldn't quite remember the details. He had a dead arm. 

Huh? 

That _was_ a surprise. Something out of the ordinary, certainly. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn't quite firing on all cylinders yet, since it was certainly taking him a second or two to work out exactly why he should have no feeling at all there. 

Weight. He was pinned down on one side by something pretty solid. 

Something warm and heavy – and brown. A brown, warm, heavy, shorthaired head lying, no, nuzzling against his shoulder, scratching a cheek against his skin as it burrowed a little deeper, puffing little gusts of warm, moist air across his chest. 

Scratching. 

Scratching? 

He cautiously raised his head and looked to see who was sharing his bed with him, at the very last moment getting a sinking feeling as recognition blossomed at the back of his brain even as he craned his neck to see the face. 

Daniel. 

Surprise was now officially upgraded to shock, rapidly augmented with a faint sense of inevitability. Daniel, in his bed, snuggled up against him? Naked? Oh yeah, and him too, now that he thought about it. Add in reeking like a mushroom cellar when he gently lifted the sheet to do a quick recon, prompting him to look for, and spot, the dried evidence on his belly. 

Wow. This was definitely going to be an exceptionally good day. 

Or, possibly - - not. The smug grin that he could feel stretching his cheeks gradually slid from his face as his mind turned back the clock to the previous night and he replayed events in his head. A team night out as a celebration of a mission that had gone right at the very last moment. A bar. A silly drinking game, at his instigation. One that he'd won, thereby managing to stay on the slightly tipsy side of drunkenness rather than progressing to out and out shit-faced - some things you just had to be grateful for; at least he didn't have the hangover to end all hangovers. Daniel's complete loss of any kind of grasp on the English language had been an entertainment bonanza, especially his rant about intergalactic smug drugglers in the wake of his analysis of Aris Boch and his problems. Oh, and his annoyance with Teal'c's apparent imperviousness to alcohol and his subsequent advice on the matter: 'Teal'c, you could save a bundle if you'd just drop stinking', now _that_ was a classic! Carter and Teal'c heading off for a cab and Carter's impression of a pinball on the way to the door – that had been funny too, watching her bounce off Teal'c on rubber legs, his normally cool, calm and professional 2IC giggling like a teenager after two blue lagoons. She'd had way more than that though. No way could anybody accuse her of being a cheap date. 

Once they got started, the vignettes came thick and fast, snatches of events racing like a crazy slideshow across the forefront of his mind before settling down into some sort of order, and he closed his eyes to watch them properly. His and Daniel's unspoken shared reluctance to call it a night and head home. Bouncing out of the bar at closing time, lurching up the street with their arms draped about each other's shoulders, laughing and sniping at each other like they always did, him feeling buzzed and mellow, Daniel having drunk himself through the language barrier upward and onward to warm and clinging, all arms and ill-disciplined legs. He was certainly an agreeable drunk. 

A short verbal tussle about where to go next, Jack winning again and persuading Daniel that he really would be better sleeping on his couch than attempting to climb the stairs to his loft, since the elevator was out of service yet again. A cab ride that passed in a blur and then the huge logistical problem of getting Daniel's legs under control for long enough to unfold him out of the cab, reach the front door and open it before negotiating him into the kitchen and getting two glasses of water and a pill down him to try and stave off the worst of the hangover. 

It was roughly here that the scenes in Jack's head began to play in slow motion. Daniel standing loose-limbed and propped against the wall, laughing at some silly remark he'd just made and the surge of desire that had run through him as he'd watched him, relaxed and happy, looking so at home in his house. And him with just enough alcohol inside him to relax his inhibitions and override his common sense, a lethal combination. He'd meant to ignore the wanting, he really had, right up to the second he'd gotten to Daniel's side: he'd meant to cross the kitchen and steer him to the guest room, help him into bed and leave him to sleep it off in peace before going to jerk off in his own room. Instead he'd crossed the space between them and planted one on him. 

Daniel had been startled, but he'd been persistent. He'd completely ignored the warning bells going off at the back of his mind and just gone for it. Jack's lips tightened as another snippet floated up to him, a scene from a completely different occasion: Daniel staring at him with an exasperated set to his lips and arms folded across his chest, saying, "That's all very well, but do you have to be so single-minded about everything?" Well apparently that applied equally as well to his dick as his brain. Geeze, last night it'd been as single-minded as a sidewinder missile. 

He groaned softly, then froze as Daniel stirred: he really couldn't face him at the moment, couldn't face the awkwardness and inevitable recriminations, not until he'd worked out what he ought to do about this. Mercifully it was a false alarm and he was grateful when Daniel merely squirmed round onto his other side and started to snore gently, although he really should have known. Daniel and oh-six-hundred sometimes managed to reach an uneasy truce, but they would never really be firm allies. He was safe enough to return to his thoughts, uncomfortable as they might be, at least until his newly freed arm got the feeling back. 

Oh yeah, he'd been persistent all right. He'd pushed against Daniel and teased his lips with his tongue, demanding entry rather than requesting it, overriding any and all objections, and had crowed inside when Daniel had caved in and responded, crowed and then upped the ante, all but doing Daniel up against the kitchen wall. He'd let his dick slide right into the driver's seat and it had taken shameless advantage, and now he felt like a heel. Worse than that: any time he'd been a heel to Daniel in the past (and he had to admit, there had been a few, all things considered) he'd managed to work his way back into Daniel's good graces, as witness the fact that for the first time in a long time, he and Daniel had been pulling together. Now he'd pretty well blown that out of the water. There was no way Daniel would want to do anything other than deck him for this, and if he was honest, he probably deserved it and shouldn't duck. No matter that Daniel's response had been enthusiastic, at least in the heat of the moment: Daniel had been drunk. There was no getting away from the fact that in a moment of inebriated loss of self-discipline, he'd made a pass at, and subsequently boffed, his legless best friend. 

Put that way, it sounded less than stellar. But he really wasn't sure which way to put it. It was all very well to say that he had feelings on the matter, that it wasn't and never could be a case of 'any port in a storm', but he couldn't assume that these were returned, even given last night's events. Daniel was… susceptible somehow, far too open to complete strangers in the daily course of his work to be immune to the blandishments of friends, essentially and eternally naïf in some respects, even though he was so knowing in others. 

He'd crossed more than the space between them in the kitchen last night; he'd crossed the line. And deep down, he found he couldn’t regret what had happened, which almost made the whole bad situation worse: sex with Daniel had been awesome, high passion mixed with shared laughter, teasing and not a little tenderness, everything he looked for in the act, culminating in an orgasm that had left him feeling like a piece of wet string. However he really regretted what was bound to come as a result. Especially since he desperately wanted to do it again. And again. That was the worst of getting what you wanted after wanting it for so long: you just got downright greedy. He'd long loved Daniel as a friend, and had recently come to longing to love him as a lover, an evolution which seemed quite natural and in the order of things to him when he stopped to think about it at all: but then he'd had time to get used to it. Daniel hadn't. And probably never would now that he'd allowed his dick to lead the charge. 

Daniel was going to freak. 

The thought of Daniel freaking was starting to freak him. 

Maybe if he was quick enough on his feet, he could manage to put things right again. Maybe he could chalk it up to drunkenness, or stress relief or something. Maybe he should just shrug it off as 'something that happens from time to time, nothing to be ashamed of, Daniel, we're both adults here, it happens sometimes in military units and no-one thinks that much of it, let's just forget it and move on. It never happened.' Maybe he'd better not take that line – too... pragmatic. Nah, he couldn't see Daniel buying that one. Maybe he should throw himself on Daniel's mercy, grovel profoundly, apologise profusely and take what was coming to him like a man. 

Maybe he should say that aliens made him do it. Temporary insanity, that might fly. Sudden and urgent desire to part with his balls come daybreak and sobriety, the whole enchilada, not just the contents. No, that was just plain silly. 

Maybe he should stop lying here worrying about it, get up as quietly as possible so as not to wake Daniel just yet and muss up the spare bed to give him a fall-back position. This definitely had its appeal as a strategy, whatever gods or saints there were that looked out for full bird colonels might conceivably look kindly on him and grant his fervent wish for amnesia – Daniel's of course. Besides, even if he wasn't that lucky, he would feel a whole lot better if the inevitable confrontation were to take place virtually anywhere other than in his bed with both of them buck naked. And preferably lubricated with coffee, lots of coffee. 

He edged cautiously across the bed, but Daniel didn't stir again even when he rolled off it and to his feet. Moving quietly across the room, he snagged a pair of sweats from the chair by the window before running an appraising eye over the place. If they hadn't just tumbled into the same bed last night, their clothes wouldn't be all over the place, would they? He ghosted around picking up various items and folding them, retrieving the pair of boxers –- his -- that were draped over the nightstand, blushing shame-facedly as he recalled twirling them round his forefinger before letting them fly over his shoulder, finally putting Daniel's clothes in a tidy pile on the chair. His own he took with him, padding into the spare room and laying them on the bed after he'd twitched the sheets to one side and rumpled them artistically. Yeah, like that was going to be convincing. He moved the clothes again and remade the bed before replacing them. Finally he stepped into his sweats and headed for the kitchen. 

Coffee: that was the next order of the day. Once the coffee machine was primed and ready, he switched it on and pottered around some, tidying up, before heading for the shower. 

The hot water was a welcome comfort as it sluiced over him, and for a while he deliberately emptied his mind and just enjoyed the sensation. He couldn't keep away from the matter in hand for long though, his mind running over the various angles, trying to decide which was the best way to proceed. He still hadn't reached any conclusion other than just waiting to see which way the wind was going to blow by the time he was washed, dried and shaving in front of the mirror. No matter which way he looked at things the outcome was going to be bad, the fallout veering somewhere between awkward and downright catastrophic. By the time he'd cleaned his teeth, put his sweats back on and headed back to the kitchen, he was in a decidedly pessimistic mood. 

His frame of mind wasn't immediately helped when he found Daniel sitting at the kitchen table, back to the door and clad only in jeans, hickey clearly visible on the curve of one shoulder, staring moodily into the depths of a steaming mug. He stopped dead for a moment or two (Hickey? The amnesia scenario had just been shot down in flames then, no way that would fly now.), then squared his shoulders as he settled for 'brazen' and breezed into the room. 

"Daniel? This is a surprise. It's only," he glanced at his wristwatch, "oh-seven-hundred." His voice sounded falsely hearty even to his ears, and he winced a little as he headed for the coffee machine. "I didn't expect to see you this early. What's up?" he asked, and winced again at the possibility of double entendre inherent in the enquiry. 

"I smelt the coffee," Daniel replied morosely, as if that explained everything: and Jack had to admit, during Daniel's habitual early morning ascent through the levels of hell, it probably did. But he'd worked alongside Daniel long enough to know that early morning chatter wasn't the best or easiest furrow to plough: in Daniel's world silence wasn't merely golden, it was solid platinum until at least three-quarters of the way through the first mug, and furthermore, no indication of his mood should be taken as gospel until that magic mark had been reached. He therefore said nothing, just filled his own mug, sat down and waited, staring at his hands as they danced against the table top, much as it chafed him to do so. Now that it came right down to it, he was impatient to know the worst so that he could at least attempt some damage limitation. Waiting for the axe to fall was the worst thing. Same as on any operation. 

Across the table, Daniel continued with his usual morning routine of gulp and stare, gulp some more, stare some more, his eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy, until the moment came when he gulped with no result. He squinted suspiciously into the bottom of the mug, shot Jack a glance then got up and crossed the kitchen for a refill. Mission accomplished, he sat down and finally spoke. 

"That's -- better. I needed that." 

Jack sent him a sympathetic look. "How're ya feeling this morning?" 

He got a fleeting grimace in response as his enquiry was thankfully taken at face value for the moment. "Surprisingly enough, not too bad. A bit of a headache, but I've felt worse. Definitely. Considering how much we had to drink last night, it's quite remarkable. You?" 

"Okay. I feel okay. I didn't really have that much though - not enough to get too drunk." Damn, he couldn't believe he'd said that: he'd just destroyed one plank of his possible defence all by himself. "You want some advil?" 

"You got some?" 

"No, I just wanted to tantalise you with the unattainable. Of course I've got some. I'll go get you a couple." 

Daniel rolled his eyes at the sarcastic tone and then winced a little at the not totally unexpected jab of pain behind them, but made no comment other than a grunt of thanks when Jack turned back from the cupboard he'd been rummaging in and presented him with two pills on the flat of his hand. Jack slid back into his chair as Daniel tossed them down and followed them with another gulp of coffee. They both lapsed back into moody silence. 

"You hungry at all?" Jack's question came out slightly louder than he'd meant it to, the result of his growing awkwardness as the silence stretched out, and Daniel jumped a little, startled out of his reverie, slopping a little of his coffee over his hand. Jack deliberately didn't watch as he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked it off. Instead he got up hurriedly and started opening and closing cupboards more or less at random, trying to find something, anything, more appetising than Froot Loops. He hit pay dirt with a packet of pancake mix that was only slightly beyond nodding terms with its sell-by date. He turned and waved it vaguely in Daniel's direction. "I could make pancakes." 

Daniel shook his head a fraction. "Not right now, thanks. Maybe in an hour or two. Don't let me stop you though; I can make my own when I'm ready." 

He could, and would too. Again it struck Jack how much at home Daniel was in his space, how little he acted like a guest in Jack's house, and he felt a twinge of regret when he realised how much he was going to miss this aspect of their relationship when the shit finally hit the fan. He didn't let it colour his voice though. 

"Nah, I'm not that hungry just now, I'll wait 'til you're ready. You feeling nauseous?" 

"Nope. Just not hungry quite yet. It's only seven-thirty, Jack. Food just doesn't seem decent this early when I'm on downtime. Besides, is that still fit for human consumption? Exactly how far out of date is it?" 

Jack was indignant. "Why do you assume that all the food I have in the house is out of date?" 

"Well, I'm guessing not the Froot Loops, but your kitchen cupboards are just like mine: basically a Twilight Home for ageing dry goods. Penalty of all the commuting we do. It's one of the hazards of 'gate travel that nobody ever tells you about, though they should." 

"True enough," Jack said gloomily. "And the 'seeking out new life and new civilisations' bit." 

Daniel looked at him enquiringly, one eyebrow raised. 

"When you finally summon up the courage to open the refrigerator after a five day mission at short notice," Jack expanded. 

"Ah, yes. 'To boldly go where no man has gone before'. Or rather," he amended in the interests of accuracy, "where no man has gone often enough recently." 

"Exactly." 

And that seemed to be an end to that conversational avenue. Jack realised he was still standing holding the pancake mix packet and turned back to place it by the stove, taking his time to line it up with regimental precision. He was aware of Daniel's eyes boring into his back and his movements began to feel clumsy and awkward. For something to do, he snagged the coffee jug before he turned back, and waved this at Daniel instead just as he drew a breath to speak. 

"You ready for more coffee?" 

"What?" Daniel's train of thought seemed to have been disrupted by the question and he peered into his mug again. "Uh – yeah, go for it." Daniel put down his mug and pushed it across the table. Jack refilled both mugs and went to restart the coffee machine. That done, he returned to the table and slid back into his seat, wrapping both hands round his mug. 

Daniel rubbed one hand over his chin. It was so quiet in the kitchen that Jack could hear the bristles rasp under his hand, and his own hand moved reflexively to finger the rough patch of whisker burn on his shoulder. When he realised what he was doing, he pulled his hand away quickly and laid it back on the tabletop, hunching his shoulders defensively. 

Daniel looked at him thoughtfully. "You're freaking out, aren't you? About last night? I knew this would happen." 

"What do you think?" The comment came out a touch more aggressively than Jack intended as adrenaline kicked in. Now it was apparently happening, he was relishing the idea of this conversation even less than when he was merely considering it. "We had sex. I pushed you into it." 

"I could've stopped you, you know. If I'd wanted to." 

"Daniel, last night you were soused. You couldn't have stopped a two day old kitten." 

"Could too. I can look after myself, you and Teal'c have seen to that. And I wasn't that bad." 

"Could not. Sure, you can look after yourself pretty well in the normal course of events, but last night you had the motor control of a sea slug." 

Daniel looked wounded, his brows pulled down into a sharp 'v' of displeasure. "'Sea slug' is a little harsh. I seem to recall doing rather more than just lying passively on the bottom and rolling around occasionally. Or is this a comment on my technique?" 

Jack was nettled: Daniel didn't appear to be taking this seriously. "Don't start, Daniel. You know what I'm getting at." 

"Jack, if anyone's starting anything here, it's you. Are you trying to tell me you regret having sex with me?" 

"Of course I do! I was tipsy and you were drunk! I took advantage of you!" 

The reply was crisp as Daniel leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "And I took it straight back. Jesus, Jack, I'm thirty-six years old! I am not Pearl White, and you're not some moustache-twirling villain in a top hat and a black cloak scheming to have a crack at my virtue. We're _both_ adults here and I'm more than able to make my own choices and deal with them, so get over it!" 

Jack gritted his teeth as he scraped his chair back across the floor, stood up and leaned both fists against the tabletop. Jesus, Daniel was being dense! And how aggravating was it that not only was he being dense, he was being dense using part of Jack's own carefully marshalled, considered and rejected arguments of earlier that morning against him? 

"Aren't you in the least concerned that I wouldn't take 'no' for an answer? I just barged straight in and jumped your bones." 

"Don't be an ass, Jack! I don't recall saying 'no' at any point in the proceedings. Quite the opposite, in fact." 

But Jack wasn't really listening despite hearing the words, intent as he was on annexing any available blame to himself, and he raised his voice a notch to talk Daniel down. Daniel was beginning to look irritated, raising his voice in turn, which added fuel to Jack's fire, confirming his fear that their friendship was taking a turn for the moribund. 

"I didn't give you the chance to!" 

Jack's voice was loud, but Daniel's was louder. "For once will you just listen to me? I didn't _want_ the chance to!" He was starting to look really exasperated now, Jack noticed, as he sprang to his feet and leaned on the tabletop too, his body position a mirror image of Jack's.

"What? You're saying you wanted us to have sex?" Incredulity cranked up the volume again. 

Daniel slapped his hand down hard on the tabletop. "Yes! Finally he gets it! I wanted to have sex. With you. I have for a while. And I want to again, as often as I can possibly manage it: don't you?" 

"Are you serious? Of course I do!" There. It was out now. 

"So why are we arguing about this?" Daniel yelled, throwing his hands in the air. 

"I haven't a fucking clue!" Jack roared back. 

They stood staring at each other in the sudden silence, both still tense and stiff-legged with irritation. The coffee machine hissed, sounding impossibly loud, and they both jumped. The absurdity of it all suddenly struck Jack forcibly as his brain finally caught up with the conversation and the fight went out of him all at once. His lips twitched as he struggled to suppress a chuckle. 

"Pearl White, huh? You want me to tie you to a railroad track?" 

Daniel sagged like a pricked balloon as the tension in his shoulders dissipated and he fought back a chuckle of his own. His eyebrows quirked up and then down again. "Well, the tying up part might be fun, but the train tracks sound a bit uncomfortable. I've never been too enamoured of al fresco sex." 

Jack was intrigued enough to shelve the 'tying up' portion of that comment for later consideration. "No? Why not?" 

"Bad experience early in my career." 

"Sand?" Jack could sympathise. He'd spent some time in deserts himself. Damned stuff got into everything. 

"Poison oak." 

"Ouch! On your…?" Jack gestured vaguely downwards. 

"Oh yeah. Took ten days for the swelling to go down and another three weeks for the itching to stop. And that was _through_ my shorts." Daniel chuckled. "It wasn't remotely funny at the time but looking back on it, it had its humorous side, I guess. A ten-day erection isn't something I'd usually complain about."

Jack shook his head, grinning. "Only you, Daniel, only you." 

Daniel was defensive. "Hey! It wasn't my fault! The guy I was with didn't know poison oak from his left elbow. He'd touched some, and when he touched me… well, you can guess the rest. It was the end of a beautiful friendship. Especially when he turned out to be immune," he added darkly. 

Jack's forehead knotted in a frown, his mouth hanging slightly open. "The guy?"

"That's what I said. Is that a problem?" 

"Daniel, the _guy_?" He mulled over the implications for a moment or two before he continued, "Are you coming out to me here?" 

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" Daniel said easily. "I figure if I put all my cards on the table, it makes it more convincing when I come on to you. C'm'ere." 

When Jack didn't immediately move to comply, Daniel leaned in to cross the small space between them. Jack watched as if hypnotised as Daniel's hand lifted to run the knuckles down his cheek before flattening out to lie along it and pull him gently closer. 

The mixture of emotions that bubbled up inside him when Daniel gently brushed his lips with his own was damned near indescribable and took him completely by surprise: incredulity and fear vied with good, old-fashioned lust. Daniel really wanted him, unbelievable as it seemed, and that scared him because he really, really wanted Daniel, and not just on a casual basis either. Well, as Daniel edged them both round the table to meet somewhere in the middle before really stepping on the gas, it seemed that he might have him. And that scared him too, even while he was responding with gusto: he wasn't used to getting what he wanted, personally or professionally, and hadn't been for a while. This was bound to snap back and bite him in the ass somewhere along the line, same as always. 

His fear was momentarily confirmed as the kiss broke off and Daniel pulled away from him to peer into his face. "I think I'd better go to the bathroom. I need a shave." Something of his feelings must have showed on his face however hard he was trying to school his features, because Daniel added with a smile, "Quit worrying, will you? I'm not changing my mind. I need a shave because I figure you don't need whisker burn." He smoothed a gentle finger over the rough patch on Jack's shoulder. "More whisker burn." 

"Oh." Relief and the renewed shock of arousal that surged through him as he felt that feather-light touch had conspired to make him dazed and stupid. He couldn't think of a single thing to say. 

"You go back to bed. I'll be as quick as I can." 

Daniel disappeared to the bathroom with a gratifying turn of speed that finally snapped Jack back to reality. Hot damn! Hot Daniel! Daniel hot for _him_! So what the fuck was he doing standing gawping like a smacked guppy in the kitchen when he should be getting ready to get well and truly laid by the hottest guy on this or any other planet on a glorious summer morning? He pulled himself together and double-timed it to the bedroom. 

The bed was a complete mess but there was no time to change the sheets, so he contented himself with straightening it up quickly as he kept one ear on the sounds coming from the bathroom. Daniel apparently was as good as his word: the buzz of the razor stopped after a remarkably short time and he heard him blowing the bristles out. Next, the faucet started and the sounds of brushing teeth replaced those of the razor; finally the toothbrush rattled back into the glass and the faucet stopped, just as he finished turning back the covers. He shucked his sweats and folded them away and turned back to the doorway just as Daniel came through, naked as a baby, sporting an impressive erection that owed nothing at all to allergy issues and apparently everything to him. 

"That was quick." 

Daniel didn't miss a step. "I was motivated. Why aren't you in bed yet?" 

Jack was aggrieved at the implied reluctance on his part. "Gimme a break here, will ya? I had to tidy it up some. Geeze, I'm seeing a whole new side to you here. Are you always this direct?" 

The leer that he got in return as Daniel continued his advance was evil. Evil enough and promising enough to make his dick jerk wildly and grow even harder, much to his surprised pride. 

"Only when I narrowly miss being thwarted. Strike while the iron's hot is my motto." 

Daniel had been edging Jack back towards the bed as he spoke, and with the last comment, he succeeded in pushing the backs of his legs against it and tumbling him onto it. Jack obligingly wriggled into the middle and watched, his skin prickling with anticipation, as Daniel followed him and crawled up his body to lie on top of him, his very satisfactorily solid hard-on poking Jack's belly as Daniel latched onto his neck. 

Jack shivered as he murmured, "Mmmm. That is one hot iron you got there, Danny boy, that's for sure." 

The reply was mumbled against his skin. "I know what to press with it too. Stick around and I'll show you. But first..." 

The rest of the sentence was lost as Daniel started to work his way down Jack's chest, lips, teeth and tongue mouthing and nipping and licking exquisitely slowly, driving Jack methodically out of his mind. But despite Daniel's apparent relish, for one last moment, Jack's anxiety resurfaced as he hitched himself up on his elbows to watch his downward progress and he couldn't stop himself blurting out, "You're really okay with this? You're sure?" Then he cursed himself for sounding pathetic and adolescent, before easing up on himself and admitting privately that yes, this mattered and mattered a lot, so it was okay to feel as if he'd just been handed the universe on a platter and to worry about it being snatched away again, as long as he didn't blurt it out at an inappropriate moment. Or even at all until he had Daniel's opinion on the matter. 

Daniel's tongue stilled in its enthusiastic exploration of Jack's belly and he lifted his head to look straight into his eyes. "Jack, I'm just about to wrap my mouth round your dick. And this time I'm stone cold sober. What do you think?" 

Jack's dick jerked again, its enthusiastic vote of confidence swiping against the newly smooth skin of Daniel's cheek, and he finally allowed himself to believe. After all, who was he to argue with his dick? It'd gotten him into this situation, he was profoundly grateful and hopefully always would be. He grinned at Daniel before he flopped back against the pillows. 

"I think I'm glad you shaved." 

END


End file.
